


Be Not Afraid

by RK_Anon (Rochelle_Templer)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is soft here but it's Aziraphale...so yeah...., Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, gratuitous additions of my head canons, well a little more angst but still definitely romantic fluff mixed in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/RK_Anon
Summary: “Angel…why don’t you want me to see what you look like?”It was such a softly spoken question, but it still drowned out every other sound in the room. Aziraphale froze, his gaze becoming distant.“I don’t look like other angels.”Crowley’s breath caught. The sheer weight of the pain in those few whispered words made his heart feel as if it was being crushed by cold, cruel fingers. He could see the Adam’s apple in Aziraphale’s throat bob several times while the angel struggled to find his voice again.





	Be Not Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic that came to me while I was writing the following post on Tumblr:
> 
> https://codicesandflora.tumblr.com/post/187609452440/ive-been-thinking-about-what-crowley-and
> 
> Basically, I was wondering what Aziraphale might look like in his true angelic form and why he might not be eager for Crowley to ever see it. Included is my head canon that Aziraphale was a cherub when he was sent to guard Eden, but was changed into a sort of principality/cherub hybrid when he was assigned to stay on Earth. A change he usually won't acknowledge out loud. 
> 
> This fic takes place a few months after the Notpocalypse.

“My dear, I don’t understand what you see in television.”

Crowley chuckled and stretched his legs across the couch. He considered being able to lie here with his head and shoulders in the angel’s lap while watching TV a huge point in favor of doing more of these “Movie/ TV show Nights” at his flat. Then again, that wasn’t something that was going to convince Aziraphale. Not when he also found reasons to do this while Aziraphale read.

“It’s not all like this, angel. And I did offer to watch that performance of Richard II with you instead. You’re the one who picked this show to binge just because you thought the title sounded ‘promising’. Besides, I thought you’d have fun seeing angels on a TV show being the good guys for a change. And on a road trip.”

Aziraphale gave him a pointed, but not too serious glare. “Really, Crowley, I do not know where humans get these ideas about angels or the workings of Heaven. “First of all, this Jonathan would have simply been reassigned elsewhere in Heaven or made to Fall depending on the severity of his mistakes. Secondly, there is no way that Gabriel would have allowed an angel on Earth to intervene so blatantly so often. And finally, not once did he have to go through the Metatron in order to converse with Her which is probably the most unrealistic part of all.”

Crowley laughed even louder and took one of the angel’s hands into his. “Maybe humans just think that angels are extensions of Her love and like to make them heroes.”

Aziraphale looked down at him, tilting his head. “Do you think so?”

“I do. Can’t blame them either. It’s easy to think that whenever I’m around you.”

Aziraphale beamed and leaned forward, a cue for Crowley to arch upward and meet him for a kiss. The angel cupped the back of his head, and Crowley couldn’t decide if the kiss or the gentle way Aziraphale cradled him was better.

Unfortunately, the kiss was short and when Aziraphale pulled back, there was a pensive look on his face.

“Do you think humans believe that we all look like that?”

“Like Michael Landon? I doubt it. Pretty sure there’s also a show that has a woman playing an angel and she….”

“No. No, not that. That’s not what I mean. I….” Aziraphale took his hand out of Crowley’s, fingers twisting. “Do you think that humans always envision angels as such benevolent looking creatures?”

Crowley frowned and rocked himself forward so he could sit up. Then he swiveled around so he could face Aziraphale.

“Probably. Angels are supposed to be good and all. And you know humans. They are always imagining that other beings look something like them. Don’t know why. Me, I think it’s kind of endearing in a weird sort of way. And this shape is a pretty comfortable one to stay in.”

“I wonder what they would think of us if they saw what we really looked like,” Aziraphale said. There was an edge of old despair in that voice which worried Crowley.

“They’d probably be terrified of us,” Crowley said with a shrug. “They’re humans, Aziraphale. They’re not going to understand the reality of occult beings.”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose, and Crowley sighed. “Ok, occult _and_ ethereal beings. Point is, they’re not supposed to be used to seeing us in our true forms.”

The demon leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Thought you’d be used to that by now anyway. Isn’t the Bible full of encounters between angels and humans where one of the first things your lot say is ‘be not afraid’? I bet at least a couple of those times referred to something you were involved with.”

“Yes, a couple,” Aziraphale said quietly. “But I didn’t usually handle Divine Proclamations. That was considered to be an archangel’s work. I, I was expected to stay out of the limelight, as it were.”

Crowley’s brow crinkled. “Has anyone seen you as an angel? I mean, aside from Adam and Eve. And Adam the Antichrist.”

“No. No, I…I never saw a need for it. I’m supposed to be guiding humanity away from infernal influences. Revealing what I am would only be a distraction.”

Crowley frowned, nodding. He suddenly realized that both he and Aziraphale had made a point of not bringing up that incident in 1835 when another human found out about Aziraphale. Not that that was surprising. It was a traumatizing series of events for both of them, and it still gave Crowley nightmares. Nightmares that were only eased by holding Aziraphale as close to him as possible for the rest of the night.

The demon shuddered, shaking off bad memories so he could focus on the issue at hand.

“I’m sure it’s a different story in Heaven though, right? It certainly is in Hell. You should see what lurks around some of the darker corners.”

“Yes, I did see some rather ghastly beings,” Aziraphale replied, making sure to not look at him while he said it. “And no, not like you might think. We don’t always go traipsing about in our true forms when we interact with each other. Especially if we plan on returning to Earth in the near future. Only beings like thrones or virtues spend most of their time in their true forms because they never leave the celestial plane anyway.”

Crowley tilted his head back and forth. He had had a question in his comment and it didn’t escape his notice that Aziraphale had ignored it.

“Just curious, but what do you look like? I mean, really look like. I know you saw all the versions of my demonic self in the Garden, but I’ve never seen you look, well, more angel-y.”

Aziraphale squirmed, like he wanted to retreat, but was stymied by the finite area of the couch they were sitting on.

“Oh you know, not so different,” the angel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the now mute TV screen across from them. “We principalities look quite similar to humans, a fact I’m sure you remember from your time in Heaven.”

“Sure, yeah, but….seems weird that I’ve never seen your true form. Six thousand years and you’ve never once….”

“As I said, I never saw a need for it,” Aziraphale said. There was a sound of nerves being stretched taunt in his tone, and Crowley knew he was treading into dangerous territory.

“Well, what about now? A sort of ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’ No humans will see it while we’re in my flat.”

Aziraphale’s lips creased upward, his teeth showing a little, but it wasn’t really a smile.

“Probably better not. You’re still a demon, and angelic light might be painful to you in some way.”

“Only if you try to Smite me, angel. Besides, if you think about it, there never would have had to been an Armageddon if angels and demons couldn’t stand to be in the presence of each other’s true forms.”

“And, and what about your plants? I wouldn’t want to hurt them. And my wings would probably make a terrible mess if they were fully out.”

“So just keep them out of the physical plane,” Crowley said, shrugging again. “And don’t worry about the plants. I keep a barrier up to prevent supernatural forces from affecting them…unless I want them to be affected.”

“Oh, oh look, there’s something else on the television. Something to do with baking from the look of it. Perhaps they’ll have some….”

“Angel…why don’t you want me to see what you look like?”

It was such a softly spoken question, but it still drowned out every other sound in the room. Aziraphale froze, his gaze becoming distant.

“I don’t look like other angels.”

Crowley’s breath caught. The sheer weight of the pain in those few whispered words made his heart feel as if it was being crushed by cold, cruel fingers. He could see the Adam’s apple in Aziraphale’s throat bob several times while the angel struggled to find his voice again.

“After the humans left the Garden, She…changed me.”

“You…you were a cherub, weren’t you?” Crowley said, unsure of asking the question even as the words left his lips. “They, well Beelzebub, said something about a cherub when they told me to go make trouble.”

Aziraphale slowly nodded. “I guess you could call it a demotion. But…it didn’t…it didn’t entirely take. I’m not sure why. But it left me…not quite being one or the other.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed. He had never heard of an angel hybrid. Then again, this didn’t seem like something Heaven would want to talk about.

His face fell when he looked over and saw the way that Aziraphale’s hands were clenched together on his lap, his chin trembling slightly. It took every bit of willpower he had to not let the fire of his anger at Heaven stir to life again.

“Look, angel, you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to,” he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “Now or ever. But I’m sure you’re still beautiful.”

One of Aziraphale’s placating smiles flashed onto his face, dissolving in an instant as something much more ancient and bleak took hold. “I’m afraid you’re very wrong about that, my dear.”

Crowley ground his jaw. He was certain he knew why Aziraphale felt so ashamed of his true form, and even if it was dangerous, he also knew that he needed to start counteracting the damage that had been done.

He placed his hand onto Azirphale’s arm. “You’re still an angel, whatever you look like. And you actually love others and care about what She wants for this world unlike far too many of those bastards in Heaven. That’s the sort of thing that makes an angel beautiful, and you know it.”

Crowley squeezed the angel’s arm and reached for one of Aziraphale’s hands. “You’ll always be fucking gorgeous to me, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale turned shiny eyes toward him. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking at the end of it.

Crowley shuffled over to him, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale. The angel was warm, as always. A warmth that soothed away the chill of darkness in his heart. How could someone who radiated light and warmth like that be anything other than beautiful?

And even if it took another six thousand years, Crowley was determined to convince Aziraphale of that too.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I was referring to the old Michael Landon series Highway To Heaven earlier. I imagine both of them becoming fans just out of an appreciation for the camp they would find in it.


End file.
